


Wild is the Wind

by botanicapoetica



Series: Call & Respond [5]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 20:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12919335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/botanicapoetica/pseuds/botanicapoetica
Summary: Billy didn’t know what he could do to get Steve to stay, but he could keep him there just a little longer at least.





	Wild is the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer : Billy is an unreliable narrator.

With his eyes on the posters decorating Steve’s bedroom, he could really pretend. He could imagine them a year from now, graduated and living in some small shithole with a mattress on the floor. Steve and Billy’s posters covering the walls, arguing over meaningless domestic shit like who was supposed to take out the garbage last, happy and healthy and together. Steve was in the police academy and Billy was in college, after a lot of pushing and encouraging from Hopper to both of them. He thought about coming home from school to Steve dancing in the kitchen making dinner, his blue cadet shirt on with the sleeves rolled up. He saw himself coming up behind Steve to say hello, saw them fucking in the kitchen and burning their food.

He was ripped violently out of his head by the feeling of chemicals running over his arm and bit down a scream, looking down at the damage. Steve was sitting criss cross on the bed, carefully pouring hydrogen peroxide over a nasty and deep burn he’d gotten from arguing with Neil a little too close to the stove. You’d think he’d have learned by now; you don’t give Neil Hargrove any environmental tools.

Steve’s expression was pinched, apologetic as he wrapped a liberal amount of gauze around Billy’s arm. Billy didn’t know what he had to be sorry for, he wasn’t the one who did this, he was the one who was having to do the clean up. He was going to get tired of it eventually, he was going to find some boring, nice girl and leave him in the dust. Billy knew what he was, no doubt about it; trailer trash that got knocked around by his daddy, a novelty to look at for a while but not something you stuck around for. You watched the fight, you stopped what you were doing to chicken-neck at a car crash, but nobody stayed while the roads were being swept.

Billy didn’t know what he could do to get Steve to stay, but he could keep him there just a little longer at least. He swept the first aid kit off the bed as he sat up, grabbing Steve’s face and kissing him hungrily, sloppily. His tongue sought Steve’s out instantly and he felt a surge of relief when he was allowed in, feeling Steve’s hands come up to frame his face in kind. The room was dead silent, save for the quiet sounds of their mouths and the small gasps crawling their way out of Billy without his consent. His hands moved down Steve’s chest, coming around his back and tugging at his shirt. Steve seemed to get the hint, pulling back to rip his shirt over his head, diving in to place heavy, open mouthed kisses on Billy’s neck.

He felt the other boy's hands winding their way into his open shirt, nimble fingers popping the remaining buttons free and finally, finally, pulling his shirt off his shoulders. Billy felt himself being gently urged backwards and let his head hit the pillow, his legs spreading to let Steve settle between them, his skin on fire at the weight of him. At the feeling of Steve's hand inching its way under the front of his jeans he choked a sound back, his throat tightening at the slow and intentionally telegraphed movement of Steve's fingers unbuttoning his pants. He was giving him an out, like Billy would change his mind, like this wasn't the only thing he could remember wanting this much. Billy lifted his hips and let Steve slip the tight jeans down with some difficulty, kicking them the rest of the way off the bed and starting in on Steve's pants. He had half a mind to just suck at Steve's dick through his jeans, he needed to touch him so bad, but this felt more important than that. He watched the way Steve's eyes fluttered when he wrapped his hand around Steve's dick, giving it slow, painfully drawn out strokes. He felt the way Steve panted against his neck when he started moving faster, the wet, damp breaths landing on his skin, and got another glimpse.

He pictured them on their mattress, some stray cat they'd taken in winding around their dangling feet. The bed was a little too small, but it was theirs. He saw Steve, his hair getting longer, his face no longer lined with sleeplessness. He was on his way to helping other people now, like he'd helped Billy, his heart big and soft and treasured. Steve's room came back into the forefront and Steve's face was close to his, his eyebrows knitted together, eyes bright with arousal. Billy wanted to ask him why he was looking at him like that but felt one of Steve's hands wiping at his cheeks hastily, watched his own shaking as he brought it up to Steve's hair. Steve opened his mouth to speak but Billy couldn't hear it, he couldn't stop this now, he couldn't handle what he imagined Steve might say, where it might go. He stopped Steve's mouth with his own, encouraging him to take the rest of his clothes off and pulling him back flush against him after.

He saw himself and Steve sitting at their kitchen table, Steve singing him Happy Birthday, Billy hearing it for the first time since his mother died. Steve's hands left his body and one came back slick, sliding inside of him, and the dam broke. Billy tilted his eyes to the ceiling, crying in earnest, dry and painful and unstoppable. He felt Steve's fingers still and terror coursed through him at the idea of losing this chance, choking out as many words as he could. "Please don't stop. You'll kill me, please don't stop touching me." Steve's eyes softened and seemed to settle on something, and Billy felt his fingers curling inside of him in a way that made his body tense and jerk, high and tight noises leaving him. Steve disappeared, appeared again, pushing inside of him carefully and touching him like something worth a shit.

They wouldn't have this forever, Billy would be left in his father's shadow in some dingy apartment in town. He'd work a shit job, he'd tether himself to checking on Max and forgetting about himself. He'd die like his mother, crazy and isolated. But right now, Steve Harrington looked down at him like he was in front of some great and holy monument and held on to him like he'd disappear otherwise. His daydreams burned away like newspaper and he felt nothing but the steady push of Steve's cock inside him, heard him whispering "sweetheart" like a mantra against his ear, one hand framing his face and gently wiping the wetness that continued to spring up.

He'd set fire to this soon, didn't know how he couldn't destroy it, but he would take Steve's pity as long as he gave it.

**Author's Note:**

> botanicapoetica.tumblr.com is the spot


End file.
